Dean, as anyone could have predicted, didn't deal well with Sam being gone. He'd convinced his dad it was a good idea to stay in New Jersey for a while, just in case. John said he'd give it a week then they were packing up and heading to Missouri. If Sam wanted to find them he could go through Bobby. True to his word, though, Sam called from the bus station, and every other bus station along the three day trip. Let Dean know he'd be in a motel near campus for a week before he could move in. It wasn't even close to the same as watching over him, but knowing that Sam was safe, hearing his voice every other day or so was pretty good, better than he hoped for. Following John's truck down highways became draining, it was lonely with just the radio for company. No amount of taking to himself made up for the lack of warm body, the eye rolling and halfhearted sighs when Dean sang along with the radio, the Batman versus Superman arguments. Every now and then Dean would put it on a pop station for a few songs just to make it feel like Sam was there.

Once they left New Jersey John decided it was best to keep moving, figured it would be the best for Dean who he could see wasn't himself. They did job after job with very little time between. It had help the boy immensely when he was little, seeing the country from the back seat of the Impala had taken him from a mostly silent five year old to the smart aleck little kid and wise ass young man he'd become. John wanted to do what was best for his boys, both of them. He did the best he could, but deep down he knew it wasn't working.

Dean wasn't what one would really classify as a "partier" but before Sam left he was known to have a few drinks now and then at a bar, if only to bring a girl back with him. Now, John noticed Dean was drinking to get drunk, to forget, like John had on so many occasions. He didn't need that for his son, Dean was better than that.

"Dean," John shook his shoulder until Dean moaned on a sunny Tuesday in October. Dean thought they were in Ohio, but honestly he'd lost track about six states ago. "Come on kiddo, it's almost two in the afternoon."

Dean had come home pretty drunk early that morning, and continued drinking a six pack he'd put in the fridge before he left. It was easier for him to forget that he didn't have to sleep on the floor between the beds because Sam wasn't there to remind him that they were way too old to share a bed. When Sam was there and he'd come home drunk, he'd just collapse into the mattress, passed out before Sam could start complaining.

"Go away," Dean mumbled into his pillow. "I have a headache."

"Really?" John laughed. "You have headache? Lucky you don't have alcohol poisoning you moron."

Dean rolled over onto his back and covered his eyes with his hand to block the sun from the open curtains.

"I don't feel good," he moaned. "Leave me alone."

"We got places to be Dean," John sighed. "You knew this before you went out last night. You knew we had people to interview."

"You can do it yourself," Dean mumbled. "Just let me sleep it off."

"You've been sleeping it off for a month now," John said sitting down on his own bed. "Time to move on."

"No," Dean moaned. "That's not how it works. You of all people know that's not how it works."

"You're 22 years old, Dean," John sighed. "Grow up. If Sam wanted to come back, he'd be back by now. He's happy leavin' us behind and doing whatever he's doing on the west coast. He doesn't give a shit about you, so suck it up and grow up, Dean."

"He does too," Dean slurred. "Cares a whole lot. Just let me sleep."

"I'm going to interview this couple," John sighed. "I'll be back in an hour. I expect you to be showered and dressed with something in your stomach that's not pure alcohol when I get back. Take in some calories kiddo. You're gonna kill yourself, and I'm not gonna sit by and watch it happen. You're too young to be an old drunk. I'm really getting sick of it. Smarten up."

"Whatever," Dean whined, rolling back onto his side after the door slammed. Maybe his dad could forget he had another son, but Dean was never going to let go of Sam.

John was pretty sure there was a ghost in the Administration building at the University. He just couldn't get a handle on local lore, there was too much going around to pin point the right story. Against his better judgment, John sent Dean out to the college bar to try to talk up the students see if he could find out anything about urban legends see if they could figure out who or what exactly it was. Maybe if he was forced to interact with other humans instead of just liquor bottles he'd realize his life wasn't over without his little brother.

Dean leaned against the bar, getting the lay of the land, figuring out what girls would be the easiest to chat up.

"Are you some kind of serial killer or something?" a pretty African American girl asked after ordering a beer as she stepped up to the bar. "You got that predatory stare."

"No," Dean fumbled. "Not a serial killer, just… I don't know… looking for someone to talk to? I guess." Spending most of a month on a bender wasn't the best way to keep his social skills sharp. This girl probably thought he was a special brand of idiot.

"Can't afford a therapist?" she joked.

"Something like that," Dean mumbled. This girl was gorgeous; he couldn't pull his eyes away no matter how much he knew he should.

"Do you… do you go to school here?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," she nodded and smiled. "I'm a journalism major."

"Excellent," Dean smirked. "Do you know anything about the admissions building? Like, has anyone ever died there or anything?"

"What?" she laughed, bringing her newly delivered beer to her lips. "That question supposed to make me think you're not a serial killer?"

"Yeah?" Dean shifted awkwardly. "I just… I'm looking into it… for a paper."

"And you can't just, look it up?" she grinned. "There's a whole buncha books in the library about the history of the school. Athens is one of the most haunted cities in Ohio."

"It's more of an urban legend paper," Dean tried to cover his ass. "I'm not from the area… you know… so I haven't heard the stories."

"What year are you?" she asked.

Dean did the math in his head quickly, if Sam was a freshman, Dean would be a… "I'm a senior."

"And you've never heard about the girl in green?"

"No," Dean shook his head. He leaned in interested. "I've never heard about it."

"You don't go here, then," she smiled. "They tell ya that story during orientation. Everyone on campus knows that story. Even transfers. It keeps people from wandering around where they shouldn't be especially at night."

"Can you just tell me anyway?" Dean pouted, trying out the puppy dog eye thing he'd seen Sam use on old ladies his whole life. "Please?"

She rolled her eyes playfully and turned to Dean, leaning in to whisper the tale. "Rumor has it, in the sixties right after they opened the building; there was this girl, daughter of the Dean or one of the teachers or something playing with her brothers. It's said that she was running in the halls, but they were new, right, so they were all fresh waxed. She tripped and fell and cut her knee on a nail by the staircase and started to cry. Her oldest brother called her a baby shoved her and she fell down the stairs, and died. And now that little girl walks the halls. Every now and again there's some weird accident in there that gets blamed on her, most of the time the people fall down the main stairs. A Couple of my friends have said they've felt a little hand on their back when they get close to that staircase. And when they stumbled, it's said that there's the unmistakable sound of child laughing."

"Interesting," Dean nodded. "Really creepy, actually."

"Friggin' creepy in there," she smirked. "Especially at night. There are cold spots and laughing echoes. It's so creepy." A shiver ran up her spine thinking about it.

"Well, thanks," Dean nodded. "That really helps me, with my paper."

"Sure," she nodded. "Glad I could be of assistance. I'm Cassie, by the way."

"Dean," he extended his hand and they shook.

"If you need to know any more local urban legends, I'll be over there." She pointed to a pool table in the corner. "Or if you… you know… just need a therapist."

Dean looked down at his beer bottle then up at the girl walking across the bar. The last month had been nothing but a drunken blur, he missed his brother, missed that partnership. This girl, though, with her little smirk and warm eyes, she could be what pulled him out of this. He placed his empty bottle on the table and followed her, hoping he'd made the right choice, but knowing he'd never regret this decision.

When he staggered into the motel room the next morning while his dad was reading the paper, he tried to act like there was nothing unusual happening. His heart felt light and he couldn't wipe the smile off his face. He'd never felt like this before, it was weird, but one of those really good weirds that he wanted to experience again.

"Guess you had a good night?" John said, not looking away from the paper.

"Very," Dean smirked. He walked over to his duffle bag and dug through for some clean clothes. "Also found out what we're dealing with. Ghost of a little girl, daughter or a Dean from the sixties; looked it up on the way over, her name is Eloise Turner and she's buried in the Simms Cemetery."

"I don't know who she is," John said folding up the paper and placing it on the table. "But I like her."

"What?" Dean asked confused. "She pushes people down stairs and laughs as they die."

"No, whoever you went home with last night," John clarified. "I like what she did to ya. Hopefully this shapes you up a bit."

Dean felt himself blush and ran his hand through his hair.

"We have plans… to go out tonight," Dean nodded. "Can we put off the salt and burn one night? Please?"

John nodded. "Yeah, one night. We're takin' care of business tomorrow night. I'll start looking for new jobs."

"Can we stay a little bit?" Dean mumbled. "Not like, forever, but maybe, I don't know, like two more weeks?"

"You like this girl?" John smiled.

"Yes, sir," Dean answered. "I think I do."

"We've been moving pretty fast lately, huh," John nodded. "I guess we can take a little time off. Bad guys will still be there when we get there. Might do us both some good to just sit still."

"Thanks," Dean replied.

"Just remember that this ain't a job where you can get too attached," John warned. "We got a job to do, and we ain't sticking around too long. It's all good to have some fun, but don't get too attached."

Dean nodded and smirked. "I know, sir."

After a week, Dean knew he loved her. He'd "dated" girls before, high school things, flings that didn't much of anything. He couldn't really see their lives after a month, two at the most. But with Cassie, he could see them in twenty years. Maybe not with two and half kids and a white picket fence, but he could see her with him later. He wasn't even close to ready to go ring shopping or anything, but every time they kissed goodbye, he'd count the hours until he saw her again. Maybe it was stupid, chick flicky, but he was sure he was in love.

"You know," Dean smiled one night about three weeks into their relationship as they cuddled in her apartment watching a horror movie after he took her to dinner. "I think you saved me from myself."

"What," she laughed looked up at him.

"When you found me there, at that bar, looking like a serial killer," Dean said. "We… uh… we moved around a lot when I was kid, still do, really. And I got this little brother, great kid, real great kid, smart, funny, so smart. He's eighteen now and since he a little baby I've been in charge of him. I changed diapers and cut his food and all that shit helped with homework. And we went off to college just packed up and left. I didn't really know how to deal with it, but then you found me."

"Where's he go?" Cassie asked sweetly.

"Stanford," Dean answered. "Wants to be a lawyer."

"So you did a good job raising him," Cassie said.

"Yeah, I guess," Dean nodded. "I just miss him."

"My parents felt the same why when I went off to school," Cassie teased. "It's not like your never gonna see him again."

"Yeah," Dean sighed. "We've just never been apart this long before. I really miss him. Like when he was really little, like three or four. I'd get home from school and he look up at me and go 'Dean, I really need a nap.' So I'd pick up and go over to the couch of wherever we were living at the time and he'd curl into my shoulder and fall asleep, just like that for hours. I mean, like, he hadn't done that in years obviously, but I just miss him."

"What's that got to do with me?"

"I spent a good amount of last month too drunk to remember that Sam's gone," Dean answered. "I was in pretty rough shape, to be honest; just stewing in my own juices feeling sorry for myself. But you found me and I woke up, I changed. And I think I'm falling in love with you."

She kissed him hard on the lips. "I think I might be falling for you."

"You about ready to take off?" John asked the next morning when Dean stumbled in. "Got a job in Nebraska that looks promising. Could be there in a day if he get going now."

"But Cassie," Dean replied. "We can't just… she… I… I can't just take off on her. I love her, she's… she means a lot to me. I can't just take off. That's not… I can't do that."

"Is this the same 'love' you felt for the little girl in Idaho?" John sighed. "Cuz you said you loved her too. Or the girl up at Bobby's that's twice your age, or the drug addict in Massachusetts."

"No," Dean shook his head. "First of all, Olivia was not a drug addict. She was seventeen and smoked pot some times. But no that was just kid stuff. Janie was the first person to put her mouth on my dick. I was fifteen. Didn't you think you loved the first person to do that to you?"

"I married the first person do to that to me," John said matter of factual.

"Gross," Dean whined. "Dad, seriously? I did not need to know that. No one ever needed to know that."

"You asked," John chuckled.

"Rhetorically," Dean replied. "You don't just offer that kind of information to your kid. I don't wanna think about parent sex."

"I have two kids, Dean," John seriously.

"Yeah but, still, gross. I'm never gonna get that fucking imagine out of my head," Dean shivered. "But no, seriously, I love her. I love Cassie."

"I warned you," John shook his head. "I told you not to get too close to her. I'm sorry, Dean, you know the job comes first before the girls. You gotta have your head in the game."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "But can't just this once I come first?"

"Dean," John sighed. "You always come first. But the job is before girls, before extracurricular activities. You've known that for a long time."

"Then why can't we just stay?" Dean felt like a little kid whining about some toy he wanted at the store. "This is something I want. I don't want to stay forever. I just… I love her. Not some kid I like you shit, I love her. "

"You wanna find what killed your mom?" John said.

"Of course I do," Dean answered. "What kind of question is that?"

"Then we're leaving town," John replied. "We're never gonna get if we sit on our thumbs while you play house with some chick you barely know."

"Can we wait a day? I can't… I can't…" Dean stuttered. "I can't just take off and not say something to her. You gotta understand that."

"I do," John answered. "You got two days. Okay?"

Dean nodded. He didn't want to say goodbye. He wanted to put her in the car and take her along with them. She's look amazing with gun holstered to her side. But at the same time he wanted to protect her, make sure she got her journalism degree, got a job a that paper back home she was always talking about. He wanted both worlds. He'd never met a hunter who had both, but he knew he could be the first one. He could if Cassie was the one waiting for him to come home.

They lay in bed together the next night, Dean was searching him mind of the way to tell Cassie was going on. That he wanted to keep her but he couldn't stay in town.

"My dad wants to leave town," he said into her hair. "Thinks it's about time to get moving."

"Okay?" she answered. "So you're leaving."

"I don't want to," Dean answered. "I love you. But I can't just abandon my family."

"Okay?" Cassie rolled over to her side and stared at him. "Are you asking to move in together, because we've been dating for a month, and yeah nothing about this has really been slow or anything, but that's not gonna happen."

"Look," Dean looked her dead in the eye. "I'm gonna tell you something. And it's gonna seem really ridiculous, but just listen."

"Alright…"

"When I was four my mom died," Dean said seriously, never looking away from her. "In the middle of the night there was a fire in my brother's nursery. My dad went in to grab Sammy and my mom was on the ceiling."

"What?" Cassie pushed away, sitting up and pulling the sheets up to cover herself.

"Wait, Cassie, just, listen," Dean pressed. "Please."

Cassie nodded.

"When I was five," Dean continued. "Dad packed us up and started chasing the thing that did that to her. When I was old enough, I started helping. We hunt ghosts. That's why we're here, to get rid of the spirit in the admin building."

"You're fucking nuts," Cassie yelled getting out of bed. "If you wanted to break up with me you could have thought of a way less creepy way to do it."

"No, listen," Dean said pushing himself up to the sitting position. "I don't want to break up with you. That's why I'm telling you this. I have to leave, my dad has a case in Nebraska, but I'll be back, as soon as I can. I love you. I don't end this."

"Get out of my apartment," Cassie demanded.

"Cas," Dean pleaded.

She walked to the other side of the bed and threw Dean's clothes at him.

"I'm serious," she said. "I'm going to take a shower. You'd better be gone when I get back."

"Cassie."

"No," she shook her head as she waved her hand between the two of them. "This, whatever this is… I'm not dating a crazy person. I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but no. This is over. Dean."

She turned and stormed toward the bathroom, pulling the comforter behind her.

"Cassie," Dean banged his head against the wall. When he heard the shower turn on, he got dressed. On her bed side table he left her a note, his number in case she wanted to talk. Letting her knew that he loved her and they could fix it if she wanted. That wasn't what he wanted to happen. He'd be back if she wanted him back.

When he took his leather jacket off the back of the kitchen chair on the way out, he knew he'd never be back here. He'd broken the one rule. The most important rule of all, do what they do and don't tell anybody. It blew up right in his face. Dad was right. He couldn't have real relationships. He couldn't get close to another person, because he could never be himself with them. What he did was what he was, he couldn't change that. He'd never be able to change it.